


snap

by gratuitousWordsmith



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, also there's like a little nsfw scene at the end but its not that graphic so, i like to call this the wtf quadrant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gratuitousWordsmith/pseuds/gratuitousWordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You knew he wouldn't understand. But maybe that's your job, to make sense of all of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	snap

The next fucker to insult troll Brittney in front of you was going to get it. You weren’t exactly sure what It was but It was definitely a thing they were going to get.

Unfortunately (Or fortunately, as your nearish future self looks back on this whole situation), that happens to be a one Dave Strider. You aren’t exactly sure if he actually said anything about troll Brittney, or if he really said anything at all because it looked like he was DTF. (DTF is an Earth term you learned from said Dave Strider. He assures you it means ‘down to fight’.) 

And by down to fight, you mean he was actually walking around with his sword drawn over his shoulder. You hadn’t really been expecting him, even though you knew he would wander down this way. You were approximately 61423% done with Egbert and his absolutely awful taste in Earth musicians (apparently Earth Brittney sounds far worse than the beauty that is troll Brittney). You left on a walk to clear your head when lo and behold look who decides to suddenly spar you.

Or maybe it was your decision. All you know now is that you’re holding him off with one sickle and pulling him towards you with the other. You want him in your pitch quadrant, and you want him bad. 

He of course knows this. Perhaps he’s known longer than you have. 

You disarm him and back him into a corner. He may be taller than you but you’re the one who is the metaphorical cave-trial two-timer. Humans are all skin and hair and arcs and words, unlike trolls who come from angles and claws and teeth and actions. He’s soft and warm and he flows against the wall, not even putting up a fight. 

He knows you hate him. He knows you want him in one of your corners; in this corner. What he doesn’t know is how to make sense of all of this.

You see it in his covered eyes as you kiss him. It’s not the first time, or even the second or third. He doesn’t kiss you back and that breaks your heart. He never has kissed you back and you want to knock his shades off of that pale freckled nose. You want to break those fucking precious glasses and then maybe, maybe he can feel the anger you feel. The deep loathing you hold for him, maybe, just maybe, he can mirror it and hate you back.

You suppose it’s funny; you hate him because he doesn’t hate you. It’s silly, nights spent pretending, pretending that Terezi will look at you with hearts in her red eyes and tells you she love you, pretending that you can curl under Gamzee’s arms again and have him whisper complete and utter fucking gibberish that calms you so easily, pretending that Strider would leave scratches on your neck as the two of you fuck on his bed…

Shaking grey hands push you back from him and you don’t realize they were your own. When did you both drop your weapons? Your eyes threaten to make you look weak and they force you to be strong. You try your hardest to sound angry, because you know you are, but his lack of action stings.

“It-It’s just how we work,” you tell him, answering his unsaid comment. “I-I need them, too.” You’ve been through this before, from the safety of a chat client. You know humans don’t have this capacity, this necessity for the other quadrants. Hell, even their human love is different than troll love. 

You see it in his open eyes, wide with a little bit of shock and confusion but with the same practiced ease that he has always carried. The calm smugness in any situation that was the catalyst for this whole romantic debacle. You see it, the disappointment.

Sure he wants this, but its not what you want. He wants to be the only person you think of. He wants to be everything. It’s the strange alien monogamy that’s bred into every human that you’ve met. They don’t understand that there’s someone you can trust with your life, and someone you can’t turn your back on and someone who protects you and someone who brings you back to reality. They expect those all to be one person.

“Karkat-” But you look away. Not now, not here, but your feet are rooted to the ground a step in front of him. 

Except, you are all those people. Terezi trusts you so much. You’ve auspisticized on a few occasions for people, and certainly you’ve calmed Gamzee. You do fill everyone’s quadrants in your own way.

You can be that one person. Except you don’t know how.

“I learned.” He says it with a smile twitching on his features before he realizes that he didn’t actually say anything funny.  

But then it is funny. It’s hilarious. It’s such a simple answer that in the long run is the most difficult choice you’ve faced. And you laugh and a tear slips down your face. You laugh again and fall against him, slamming your fist into his chest. 

He takes your punch like a champ; a little knock isn’t enough to wound anyone, especially a god tier like himself. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He can’t know what he’s thinking. 

He sees it in your eyes. He kisses you. It’s the first time, and the second and the third. He’s rough, and robotic. Maybe this is his only kiss ever. He’s not thinking this through. He can’t understand you, but you need him to, you need to understand  _him_. 

You have to. So you grind his back into the steel grey walls. You show him what it means to absolutely loathe someone to the point that that loathing gains and loses something and it becomes love. He teaches you to love. 

It’s not right, right now. The two of you are far too troubled for it. You find it hanging like a large banner painted in your blood between the two of you. It hangs there, dripping red red red until the two of you gather the motivation needed to release what ties you back. 

And you snap like a cord pulled tight then cut with a sharp blade. You whip against him, the velocity hurtling you both into something other than a quadrant. Something different than the box that humans are told to put their relationships in. The two of you are shoved into your block on a dark morning not unlike the ones you dreamed about. Except its different.

He’s different, you’re different. The whole world is different. You still bite and scratch but your lips and tongue soothe away most of the sting. His fingers knot in your sweaty hair and pull, pull gently, coaxing small sounds from your voice that drive him mad. Blunt fingers and teeth a welcome change to the sensitive folds of your nook as you remind him to go slow and remind yourself to calm down. You don’t though, not easily, and your hand slips, catching the soft flesh of his side. He hisses in shock but isn’t discouraged; you feel the muscles of his thin legs tighten underneath yours. 

He pants in your ear, making the skin and hair damp with each breath. You feel the rough bruised lips mouth words against your neck, but it’s a while before they reach your range of hearing.  _I love you, love you_  and you yearn to say them back but you know better. You know this isn’t love. It’s not something more than that, or anything less. But right now as you refuse to open your eyes and your breathing mingles with his it’s useless for you to find a different word for this indescribable situation you’ve put yourself into. 


End file.
